


Promises Promises!!

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas promises, Fun, M/M, Mentions of sex and foursome, PWP without Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 06:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: A very Johnlock and Mormor Christmas!





	Promises Promises!!

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Sherlock commented.

 

“Stating the obvious,” Jim sang, “It’s 24th afternoon, Christmas is on 25th, so yeah it is!”

 

“Oh come on now, peace please,” Sebastian Moran said with an annoyed huff as he checked the pudding in the oven, “It’s our first Christmas together, as friends, remember? We promised we won’t fight, throw jibes or create a scene. John and I have kept our end of the deal. John has been cooking, I have been baking and shopping, while the two of you sit on those chairs have a staring match and keep passing snide remarks. Not fair in my opinion. In case you two geniuses are bored, I suggest you at least decorate the Christmas tree and wrap up the presents, make yourself useful instead of picking on each other constantly.”

 

“He has taken my chair,” Sherlock complained, “He always does that.”

 

“Oh you be grateful I am sharing my oxygen with you,” Jim responded, dark eyes growing darker.

 

“Don’t take out your frustrations on me,” Sherlock snorted, “Just because a business deal went bad this morning.”

 

“How do you know that huh?” Jim snarled.

 

“You have been logging in and out of your laptop constantly, which you never do,” Sherlock rattled off in his usual style, “You either stay glued to it or you log off and stare at your phone. This means you had a deal nearly closed and it went bad, you are too proud to back off but you’re hoping the other party isn’t as high on ego and will agree to your terms and conditions. Therefore, you’ve been logging in periodically to check if they emailed you and when you see they haven’t, you log off with the ‘I don’t give a damn’ attitude, only to log in and check again thirty minutes later.”

 

“Oh oh oh now you are deducing me,” Jim snarled again, “How about this Mr. Genius Detective, the only case you got in the past three days was that of a missing Christmas present at an earl’s pre-Christmas party.”

 

Sherlock scowled.

 

“I don’t need to deduce,” Jim said with an air of superiority, “I just hacked your mailbox.”

 

“I swear I am gonna…..”

 

“What will you do huh? What will you do?”

 

John put his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and sighed, “Good grief, are they thirty-six and thirty-five or are they six and five?”

 

“Sexual frustration.”

 

“What?”

 

Sebastian lowered his voice and pulled John into the kitchen as the two geniuses continued to row. “You know those two, they need to do something spectacular all the time. Normal and ordinary bores them to death. If they are not investigating a case or working on a business deal, they need to be praised and pampered or indulged with sex. As a result of the pact we made last month, they are allowed to see each other once a week for sex and every other time we meet socially, with both of us present. This week they missed their ‘conjugal appointment’ if I may put it that way, because Sherlock was working on a case in Stuttgart and Jim was away to Helsinki for a business deal.”

 

John gave him a sour look, “Don’t remind me that I share him sometimes. I don’t share your view that relationships should be open so please, don’t remind me.”

 

“Well then,” Sebastian shrugged, “Let’s continue working on the turkey then.”

 

“With this cacophony?” John peered into the living room, “Christ, Jim is threatening Sherlock with a screwdriver and Sherlock is analysing his past relationships, annoying him even further.”

 

“That’s it,” Sebastian strode into the living room and physically separated the two warring geniuses, “Enough. Go to the bedroom and stay there, but no sex.”

 

“No sex,” John repeated, nodding.

 

“What about a hand job?” Sherlock had the gall to ask.

 

“NO,” John and Sebastian shouted together.

 

These were changed times and the two brilliant men had long since realized they loved their partners too much to really hurt them or betray them. Sulking, they went to the bedroom and sat down on opposite sides of the bed, facing away from each other. John closed the bedroom door with a warning of ‘You can’t have sex quietly so we’ll know the moment you two start anything, so don’t even try’.

 

“I want to cut off one of John’s ears,” Jim commented after a while.

 

“And I wanna shave Sebastian’s head,” Sherlock sneered, “Wait, why his ear?”

 

“Why his hair?”

“You first.”

 

“No, you first.”

 

Jim shrugged and said, “Okay….Well it’s like this Sherly, John hears a bit too much doesn’t he? Last month, one Thursday I think, I had sneaked in and we had a quickie in the closet before I escaped through the window. Even your big brother didn’t have any idea about it. But next day John texts me saying he could hear us from the stairway where he was talking to Mrs. Hudson. Now which demon hears from such a distance?”

 

“With all your yelling, I am sure Baker Street would have heard,” Sherlock chuckled.

 

Jim’s hand slowly stretched out towards Sherlock who went on with his explanation about Sebastian’s hairs. “Sebastian has beautiful hair,” the detective spoke with a hint of envy, “The colour is magnificent, the texture is unbelievably superior and it just settles into any style he wishes to adopt. With my curls, it’s always a mess or it’s always the same damned style. I take an hour every morning to set them and when I step out, just one swipe of a stiff breeze through them and they’re back to square one again. Men shouldn’t have hair like Sebastian, they should have coarse, unmanageable hair, plain and……”

 

“Got it, got it,” Jim said, “In that case I am sure you didn’t gift him a styling gel.”

 

Sherlock had by then taken Jim’s hand in his own. He squeezed it so hard at that point that the former mastermind jumped. “Owwww, why would you do that?”

 

“Gifts!!!”

 

“Yeah what…..Sherlock, GIFTS!!!”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“We haven’t got them any.”

 

“No, we have to do that right away.”

 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

Fortunately for them, Seb and John didn’t mind them going out for a few hours. “If you’re going to buy gifts then remember we have a cap on how much we spend,” John called out, trussing the turkey, “No going overboard and gifting each other extravagant stuff.”

 

“Yeah,” Sebastian added as he started to decorate the Christmas tree which Sherlock had been promising to decorate for two weeks and hadn’t done, “Hundred and fifty pounds per person.”

 

“Yeah-yeah-yeah,” Sherlock parroted, “Hundred and fifty pounds. Hurry now Jimmy.”

 

“I’m going, I’m going, don’t push,” Jim snapped at him but Sherlock still pushed him out of the door and the two loped down the stairs.

 

“Peace at last,” John grinned, “Let’s hear some carols shall we Sebastian?”

 

***

 

“All right, here we go,” Jim parked at Harrods and the two men got out, “Hundred and fifty pounds per gift and three hours to get back to 221B. Anything else?”

 

“Yeah, this,” Sherlock put a big smacker on Jim’s lips and walked off, leaving the former criminal amused and a just a bit aroused.

 

Over the next one hour Jim was already done with his shopping and bored out of his mind. He had got Sherlock a stylish, leather violin case because he had accidentally broken the last one by sitting on it (it was an old tattered case anyways, he had argued, but Sherlock had seemed pretty upset). For Sebastian, he had purchased a YSL bath-time hamper because he loved those fruity, summery, citrus scents on the man after the blonde had taken a bath. For John, he bought a nice elegant briefcase which he knew the doctor needed rather badly after using the same one for more than two years.

 

He sat in a café, sipping cappuccino and scowling at the ordinary boring people as they walked past his table. One smitten girl looked at him too long and Jim glared back so badly at her that she left the building in the next five minutes. Next a fifty-year-old threw him a lascivious glance and Jim decided this was enough. Either he left the place right away or he’d end up committing a crime.

 

Quickly he texted Sherlock.

 

_I am done – JM_

_I am not – SH_

_I wanna go home – JM_

_Wait for me to finish – SH_

_How long does it take to buy three gifts – JM_

_Didn’t know this was a competition – SH_

_Come back in a cab – JM_

_No, wait for me, or no sex for three months – SH_

 

“Bastard, blackmailing me like that……” Jim started to mutter but stopped midway through the sentence and tapped his chin, “Black, why does that name remind me of….Black, of course, Sean Eamon Black. I need to buy a gift for Eamon Black.”

 

Sean Eamon Black was one of his clients and a rather juicy, profitable one. An Irishman settled abroad, just like Jim, the man often gave Jim’s flourishing business extra boost by referring him to other clients or by giving him constant and repeated business from his side. The man was also a former criminal like Jim so Jim felt a connection between them and appreciated the man’s tenacity and ability to stay legit for a decade since he had stepped away from the criminal world. For the last three Christmases Sean had sent Jim nice gifts as well and every single time Jim had forgotten to send him one.

 

But not this time. He had time on his hands now, he was going to use that well, and he would buy Sean Black a nice gift.

 

***

 

Sherlock was relieved that he had finally managed to choose appropriate gifts for his men. He had bought John a stylish suede and wool jacket which was on discount, he had got Sebastian a pair of hiking boots and for Jim a set of silken pajamas, slippers and a stringy little underwear. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on the little pest’s face when he unwrapped the present in front of the others. That would be a laugh riot! Feeling rather accomplished, he was just about to call Jim and ask him to meet him at the car, when he spotted the pretty little Irishman at a Hugo Boss store. He looked busy choosing a gift with two sales clerks assisting him.

 

Sherlock’s heckles rose. Hugo Boss! What sort of gift was he picking up from that place?

 

He skulked closer and entered the store, hiding behind a stack of clothes and listening in to the conversation his former nemesis turned current lover was engaged in. “Hmmm, tough choice, should I go for this one or that one,” Jim spoke in his childish, somewhat ‘queen’ like voice, “I love them both but I think this one is too garish for him. He likes subtle colours. So then, hmmm, all right I have decided. I’ll go for the traditional white tuxedo then. Dark dress slacks, white dress shirt, white tuxedo and oh yeah, how long will you take to personalize this a bit?”

 

“In half hour sir.”

 

“All right, monogram it with an ‘S’.”

 

Sherlock froze.

 

Jim had broken the pact. He was buying a ten-grand suit for Sebastian. Maybe he had bought expensive stuff for John as well. Now he’d end up looking like a fool with his shabby, budget gifts.

 

 _Never trust a mastermind, former criminal or not, retired or not, they can never be trusted to keep their end of the deal_.

 

Hopping mad, Sherlock went to another store and started to break the deal as well. “Hi, I’d like to buy that Scotch please, yeah I know its aged forty years, yeah-yeah-yeah, I don’t mind the price. Three and half thousand pounds is perfectly fine.”

 

“Sebastian’s gift done,” he murmured as he walked out of the store with the new gift, “Now for John’s.”

 

A child walking past him tugged at her mother’s arms and said, “Mamma, that man is speaking to himself.”

 

***

 

Jim was rather happy with the gift he had gotten for Sean Eamon Black and whistled to himself a Bach tune as he waltzed down the floor, ready to meet Sherlock and return to 221B. That was when he heard a familiar baritone and stopped, shaking his head with disbelief at the words he had just heard. No, how could this be, how could Sherlock break the pact? Was he doing this deliberately to put Jim on the spot and embarrass him or was it some other game? Anger flared up inside him and he glowered at the detective who was still glued to his cell phone.

 

“Mycroft you are not my father, in fact even dad doesn’t interfere with my life,” Sherlock said angrily, “It’s my money I am withdrawing so how the hell do you care? I am shopping for Christmas gifts, yeah, you heard that right, Christmas gifts.”

 

Jim closed in and listened, standing behind a pillar and his ears picking up like a wolf’s. Sherlock was definitely breaking his promise, or rather, he had broken it already. “No, I am not doing anything funny or inappropriate,” the detective snapped at his over-protective brother, “Send your lackeys and check if you want, I am just buying something real special for John, Jim and Seb. No budget, no restrictions! Oh yes, I heard that before, caring is not an advantage. Neither is spying on your brother, why don’t you go and show Lestrade a good time in bed instead?”

 

At that even Jim had to laugh. He could imagine the vexed look on Mycroft’s face.

 

But that good mood faded when he saw Sherlock fish out his credit card and head for the Westwood store.

 

“Oh game on,” he said wickedly, “I have more credit cards than the London subway had trains. Let’s see who fixes whose wagon this Christmas.”

 

As he watched Sherlock buy Westwood suits and head for the Longines store, Jim decided he would outdo Sherlock in every possible way. So he went to several high end stores and shopped his heart out.

 

“I O U an expensive gift this Christmas,” he grumbled as he shopped, “I O U Sherlock. I shall burn the wallet out of you. Just you wait and watch.”

 

With that, he entered the Prada store.

 

Unbeknownst to him, Sherlock had also spotted him several times, walking out of stores with his arms laden with shopping bags.

 

Rather annoyed and unhappy that Jim had put him through this, he kept up with the Irishman by shopping just as much as he did.

 

Finally he was done. The detective shook his head and sighed, “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true. This is not Jim’s astral projection shopping for expensive gifts, so that eliminates the impossible. What remains is the improbable thing that he actually thought I’d be stupid enough to fall for his promise…..nah, he will get a nasty surprise soon.”

 

***

 

Sherlock tried to look surprised when Jim came to the car, followed by two beaming shopping assistants pushing trolleys filled with packets and bags. But that attempt was an utter failure and Sherlock ended up looking smug instead as he turned his head to look at his own mountain of gifts. Jim tipped the two young men generously and turned towards Sherlock, a snooty expression on his face. Waggling his eyebrows, he said, “It seems you bought half the merchandize at Harrods with your measly hundred and fifty pounds Sherly!”

 

“And I see that you bought the other half with your hundred and fifty,” Sherlock shot back.

 

The two of them glared at each other, then started to bundle the gifts into the boot and backseat of the car. Once done, they quietly got in and Jim drove them back towards 221B. Three hours had turned to nearly four and the two of them felt more than a little hungry as they sat side by side in silence, the events of the past few hours still floating through their minds. Something was not right, they both seemed to guess, but neither would take the trouble to ask. There was too much pride and arrogance in them to take such simple steps.

 

Sherlock turned the radio on, to distract himself.

 

At first there was a song and both men hummed half-heartedly along with it, pausing momentarily to curse the traffic, the weather, the crowds, the general ordinariness of celebrating Christmas and all that.

 

Suddenly the radio jockey started to speak and their attention was drawn towards the words she used.

 

Three families in east London had experienced a sort of holiday tragedy in their flats. Due to a faulty electric wiring there was a fire in their homes and while no major losses had occurred and all members were out at that point, the Christmas gifts they had bought were all burned to ashes.

 

“They had planned to celebrate Christmas together, all three couples, as their children are now grown-up and celebrating Christmas with their friends elsewhere. All their gifts were in one of the flats, under the tree and that’s where the worst fire happened, turning the tree, the gifts and the couch into burned embers. Thankfully nobody was hurt but it is a sad moment for the three…..”

 

“I have an idea,” Sherlock turned towards Jim.

 

“I have the same one,” Jim responded.

 

***

 

“Wake up sleepyheads, wake up, Christmas morning it is and time to open the presents,” John cheerfully nudged Sherlock and Jim hard while Sebastian fell out of the bed with a thump and cursed. “Is he a child, have you decided to settle down with a three-year-old,” Jim grumbled to Sherlock as he slowly sat up, “I really need to cut off that ear.” Sherlock groaned and shook his head, “No Jimmy, no violent thoughts, at least not on Christmas day.” Sebastian in the meantime tossed their clothes in their direction and ordered them to be sober up and not parade down naked to the living room.

 

“If we hadn’t had amazing sex last night,” John said as he placed three cups of tea on the nightstand, “I’d have poured cold water on you Jim.”

 

Finally all four men were brushed, dressed somewhat, had drunk their tea and walked to the living room. Breakfast was ready (prepared by Mrs. Hudson as a special Christmas treat) but they decided to exchange gifts first. They sat down on the ground next to the tree and started to open their presents. “Oh my God,” John exclaimed, “A briefcase from Jim, a jacket from Sherlock and an annual subscription to my favourite medical journals from Sebastian. Very well thought out guys, I love them. Just what I needed this year.”

 

“Hiking boots from Sherlock, YSL gift hamper from Jim and a set of books on hunting from John. Perfect. Nice!” Sebastian was truly happy with his gifts.

 

“Pajama set and slippers from Sherlock,” Jim said, scrunching up the wrapping papers and tearing them to shreds like a naughty child, “Tie pin from John and a knife throwing set from Sebastian. I like.”

 

“Violin case from Jim, hair products from Sebastian,” Sherlock scowled a bit at that point but straightened his expression soon, “And a jumper with matching scarf from John, matching the ones he has. Good ones, I am….um….happy.”

 

“Old habits die hard,” Sebastian snickered.

 

“Oh I am glad they at least kept their promise,” John said, “I was so worried they’d buy gifts worth thousands of pounds.”

 

“Yeah and we’d end up looking like fools,” Sebastian echoed John’s sentiments.

 

“Merry Christmas guys.”

 

“Merry Christmas all.”

 

Jim and Sherlock exchanged glances and grinned, hiding behind each other. The expensive gifts were with those three unfortunate families, who had nearly fainted with shock when the two geniuses had showed up to show their support and share their gifts with them. Eventually only the initially purchased gifts were retained for their lovers and partners.

 

Some things just couldn’t be explained, could they!

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!


End file.
